


It Is a Date

by SaintFrancis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anger, Ella Fitzgerald - Freeform, Family History, Fast Cars, Frustration, M/M, Music, Stiles confused about his sexuality, nina simone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintFrancis/pseuds/SaintFrancis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In answer to the question posed by author NotYourKhakis in Chapter 1 of story "First Date?"</p><p>Derek and Stiles' first date, a road trip from Beacon Hills to Eureka.  Derek opens up, providing a bit of his backstory prior to returning to Beacon Hills.  The story also provides the backstory of the Hale family, including the source of wealth and Derek's survival after the fire.  </p><p>Stiles is confused a bit about his sexuality, whether they are truly on a date, and Derek's intentions.  </p><p>I wrote this several years ago and am just now posting it, so it may deviate from the show here and there.  </p><p>Timeline would fit around Season 1.</p><p>Song References:  Nina Simone  "Wild is the Wind"  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CiVDzTT4CbE   Ella Fitzgerald: "Stompin' at the Savoy"  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pwAEOepJH_c</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Is a Date

**Author's Note:**

> For NotYourKhakis in answer to the story "First Date?" 
> 
> A date was had.

Derek jogged the short two miles from the hull of the old Hale estate to his mechanic’s garage where he stored his black Camaro. Better to keep it out of view and out of the elements, and in the hands of one of his few trusted friends, Bill McClary. 

Members of the McClary family, fully human, had been friends with the Hales since both families arrived in California from the Ohio River valley during the gold rush.  Their friendship served both families.  The Hales had provided well-compensated protection to the McClarys' many business interests, starting with that family’s first mining claim.   After the gold play, both the Hales and the McClarys purchased large tracts of Northern California timber. The two families’ symbiotic relationship continued.  The large land holdings provided the lumber to feed the McClarys' mills in Eureka, and provided ample hunting grounds for the Hales.  The Hales typically confined their hunting to the region’s ample dear and elk population, but on occasion, the family needed a new recruit, and an isolated lumberjack, miles away from camp, and often without family, would receive a bite. Most of the McClarys moved from Beacon Hills to San Francisco in the 1950s, maintaining a financial interest in the lumber, and branching out into law and finance.  In their new capacity as the wealthy and educated guardians of power, they continued to shield their longtime family friends from discovery.  

“Bill,” Derek yelled as he walked into the garage. The classic rock that Bill had blaring in the garage bay was a too loud for Derek’s ears and too awful for Derek’s taste.   The mechanic stepped back from the car, tugged on the brim of his baseball hat, grinned a smile of perfectly white, capped teeth, and went back to working on a grey Toyota Camry.

Bill McClary fell into a meth-addled life in San Francisco, robbing him temporarily of his body, mind, and teeth.  Derek had saved Bill’s life.  The savage death of Bill’s  drug dealer was attributed to a dog attack.  Occasional and distant howls during Bill’s rehab provided ample fodder and a distraction for those in treatment, and a not-so-quiet assurance to Bill that someone had his back. 

Derek continued through the garage, slapped Bill on the shoulder, and exited the back garage bay into the storage yard. The Camaro was parked in the small open metal shed attached to the back of the garage. He slid into the driver’s seat and relaxed as he was flooded by the scent of leather.  His mind on Stiles.  What was he doing with this kid?  What was Stiles 16, 17? Although Derek had offered Stiles the bite, he really wasn’t pack material.  Shit, the guy would drive the other pack members crazy with his nonstop talking and his sarcastic remarks.  But Derek liked the annoying S.O.B.  His intelligence and quick wit challenged Derek in ways that he hadn’t been challenged since his return to Beacon Hills from San Francisco the previous year. Derek also knew that Stiles, despite his geeky exterior and goofy behavior, was both loyal and fearless.

Derek turned the keys, threw the car into reverse, and punched the gas.  Within minutes his car was in front of the Stilinski home.  _No sign of the Sheriff. Good._

Moments after Derek’s arrival, Stiles bolted out of the front door, ran down the walk, and opened Derek’s car door.  “Hey Derek. Thanks for the ride.  Let’s get a move on.”

“Stiles, embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“No, it isn’t that.  Small town.  No need to give people anything to talk about.”

“So, you are embarrassed to be seen with me,” Derek said and shifted the car into first. 

“Derek you’re taking that wrong,” Stiles said as he sunk into his seat.  “Hey, are these heated?”

“Yeah, press the button next to your seat buckle.”  

“Thanks man, it is cold outside.” 

“Hadn’t noticed,” Derek replied, taking his eye off the road, and eying the skinny kid.

“So, we are still on for _Rebecca_ , right?” Stiles asked, wondering what this day really was.

“I don’t know.  That’s really up to you.  You up for a drive to Eureka, see what’s going on, and if we are in the mood, we’ll hit the movie?” 

“Dude, that's cool,” Stiles said as he eyed the speedometer. “So do you always drive this fast? You know, we’re still in a residential neighborhood, and you’re going, what, 50?  I’m not in that much of a hurry, and I’d hate for you to hit Mrs. Huff’s poodle or the Simons kid.”

“Well, they’ll just have to worry about that.” Derek quickly spun the wheel to right, sliding the car onto Main, two blocks away from the onramp to Highway 69.  He punched the accelerator, and the car lived up to its billing “0 to 60 in 3.1 seconds.” 

“I really don’t have to worry about your driving, do I? You know, with all that wolfie sense. Probably better than spidie sense when it comes to driving, isn’t it?”

“Does it matter?” Derek said flatly. 

Stiles sighed.  “Just trying to make conversation.  Feel free to jump in at any time.  I’ve already thrown you a couple of bones.  You know. Pun intended.” 

Stiles continued, “So, did you like the new Spiderman movie? Or, is a dude having spidie senses a little too unrealistic for you?  Because that kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life.  You know, people turning into other creatures, and such. Does it?  I’ve certainly never heard of _anything_ at all like that.”  

Oh god, Derek thought. This is going to be my day.

“Stiles, did you come out of the womb talking?” 

“That’s cute.  Not too original, but cute.  Actually dad told me that I started talking about a year after other kids normally do. Nobody knows why, but I guess I didn’t have much to say.” 

“Well, you must have changed your mind.”

“Yep that’s it.   Do you mind if I turn on the radio or pop in a CD?”

Derek picked up his iPhone, glanced at the playlist, and Nina Simone’s _“Wild is the Wind”_ soon filled the car. 

Before Simone’s vocals started, Stiles said, “Those notes are a bit ominous, don’t you think?  And, who is this?  Certainly not something I would think a tough guy like you would go for.”

“Stiles, shut up and just listen.”  

Derek gunned the car and the speedometer moved past 100. He loved driving at high speeds.  There was certainly the thrill of going fast, but he also enjoyed how cars built for speed read the road, conveying road conditions, surfaces, and curves back to the driver through the steering wheel. Some cars were built to come alive at speed, and the Camaro was one of them.

Derek glanced at Stiles, expecting to see the kid white-knuckling the ride. Instead, he saw him sinking into the thrill.  Stiles was relaxed with his eyes closed, surrendering to time and place, listening to Simone finish _“_ _For we're creatures, Of the wind, And wild is the wind, So wild is the wind, Wild is the wind, Wild is the wind, Wild is the wind.”_   Stiles smiled, and Derek thought that perhaps he was right in seeing something special in Stiles.

Stiles opened his eyes at the song’s end to see Derek’s green eyes staring at him. “You like the song?” Derek asked.

“That was cool. She’s so mournful and full of longing. I don’t know how to really describe the experience, but between our speed…Aghhh, you are watching the road, right?... and the song, I felt, I don’t know, scared and safe at the same time? And, I do like the heat coming off these seats.  Certainly relaxes the back. They should put a massage feature in. You know, like those chairs at Sharper Image.” 

Ella Fitzgerald's  “ _Stompin’ at the Savoy_ ” was next in the queue. " _Savoy, the home of sweet romance…”  
_

“So Derek, can I ask you question?” 

“Doesn’t mean you’ll get an answer, but go ahead.  But you get one question, not a monologue full of questions.”

“Dude, don’t you think this music is, well, kind of gay?”

Derek offered no response.

“Well if you aren’t going to answer that, I’m going to ask another question. Why are you with me?  I mean, you have your pack, and I assume you have friends.  I don’t know.  Besides Scott, most folks don’t like to hang with me.  And you seem to certainly like your alone time, or I think you do.”

“Stiles, I told you.  You have one question. So, no, the music isn’t gay.   But, I’ll give you a freebie. I’ll answer your second question. I like smart people.”

“I never would have thought werewolves would have put a premium on intelligence.  I mean with all that muscle and special senses, I don’t see why you’d need brains too."

“How do you think a family of werewolves survives in a civilized and densely populated country?  We have to fit in. We have to earn money. I mean sure, we could just kill people and take what we need, but that typically leads to entire communities turning on a pack and killing every member.  Argents or not.  Most werewolves in this country “mainstreamed” well over a century ago.  You blend in, you survive.  In order to blend in well, you have to be smart about it.”

"My mother pushed education.  We read a lot.   We had to learn biology because that was a key to surviving and controlling the changes.  If you knew some of the science behind the changes, you could control them better.” 

“After the fire, family friends, who live in San Francisco, took me in. I lived there for four years, working as a bouncer at hipster clubs, while I took some classes at the junior college. I didn’t want or need a degree or anything.  I have enough money to last a lifetime.  But, I did want to understand the world a bit more.  So, I took the typical freshmen and sophomore college classes.  They help me pass.” 

Derek was watching Stiles’ face, “Stiles, I've never seen you speechless.”  Has anybody ever seen you speechless?”

“Yes. I mean no.  I am not speechless, just lots going through my head. Dude, you know, people typically tell me I reveal too much.  I’m cool with you telling  about wolfie education and stuff, but Scott doesn’t even know this. Why the hell are you giving me the lowdown on wolfie life and education?  It is out of character. You don't have an ulterior motive, do you?   I’ve already told you I don’t want the bite.  You get that, right?  No bite. No bite.”

Derek sat silently for a few seconds, appearing to be focused on rounding a curve. 

“So, Derek,” Stiles said breaking the silence.

Derek interrupted, “Another question?  Stop with the questions.”

Stiles continued, “But, dude, this one is key.  The other day at the coffeehouse, when you asked me to do something, was that something truly a date.   I mean, I _think_ you asked me out on a date, but to tell you the truth, I don’t know what the hell I was agreeing to. It all happened so last, and let's face it, you're not the best communicator.  

Derek removed his right hand from the steering wheel and placed it on Stiles’ left thigh.  “Stiles, come on. I’ve already told you that I liked you because I think you're smart.   I’ve offered you the bite.”  

“And, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Derek said as he moved his hand over Stiles’ thigh to the growing firmness in the man boy’s khakis, “but I kind of like the look of your runners’ legs.  So, yeah, Stiles.  I was asking you out on a date.”

“Well,” Stiles responded, “at least we are on the same page about that. But I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready to be groped by a guy whose hand turns into a paw.”  

Derek yanked his hand back and growled,  “Fuck you  Stiles?  I am being nice to you, opening up, telling you about my life, and you backhand me.” 

“I am sorry. I think I am just freakin’ out. I’ve never done anything with a dude before.  Actually, I’ve never done anything with anybody before.  Well, except myself.  Geez, man. I like your hand on my thigh, but, ughhh, you know, there’s implications to being involved with another dude, and there’s even bigger implications to be involved with werewolf.”

Derek stopped watching the road and stared Stiles.  “Derek, for fuck sake, watch where you are driving.” 

“Stiles, don’t worry about my driving.  I got it.” he said angrily. “What I don’t get is what you mean by _implications_?”

“I am sorry Derek, I really am.  I just don’t know what I’m doing.   I mean I like you and all that.  After I stopped crushing on Lydia, I realized I liked guys just as much, if not more than I like girls.  But, dude, you scare the shit out of me.  You're hot and all that, but you’ve killed people.  You turn into a  monster with superhuman powers.  I just don’t know if I can go there.” 

Derek sneered, “you are really digging your grave. Careful with that mouth and your choice of words.  Yes.  I've killed to protect the people I care about.  I don’t kill for the fun of it.  You get that? And, how is that any different from what your father has to do?  So, fuck you and all your monster crap.” 

Derek returned his attention to the road and Stiles pressed himself into the passenger side door.  They sat in silence for the remaining 22 miles, arriving in Eureka shortly before noon.

Derek pulled the Camaro in front bookstore located inside one of the town’s many Victorian buildings.  “I think both of us know this was a mistake. Why don’t you go about your business and I’ll go about mine.  Let’s meet back here in an hour and head home.”

Stiles was about to get out of the car, stopped, and turned toward Derek.  “Hey Derek, sorry. You are the last person on earth I want to hurt.  Like I was trying to tell you, I am just scared.  And you know me. My mouth moves before I think through what I want to say. So, why don’t we start again? You know.  You can be the hot dude that I really like, and I can be the guy who for some reason you think has nice runners’ legs.  Do you think we can go back to that?”

“Perhaps.  But, Stiles, never call me a monster again.  After all I’ve done to protect you and your bud Scott, I fucking deserve better.” 

Stiles was looking down at the floorboard when he replied, “I know Derek.  Like I said, sorry. You do deserve better. Let’s go grab some coffee and come up with a game plan for the day.”

After coffee, Derek and Stiles spent a couple of hours of exploring Eureka’s lone bookstore and a clothing store, where Derek purchased another leather jacket.  They considered going to see _Rebecca_ , but neither was in the mood.  They both realized that Hitchcock was too dark after what they had been through in the car.   

The drive back to Beacon Hills was uneventful. Derek kept closer to the speed limit. An exhausted Stiles’ leaned against his werewolf friend for most of the drive.  The only words they exchanged were about occasional landmarks they passed along the road. 

Derek pulled the Camaro in front of the Stilinski home a few minutes before 8:00 p.m.  Stiles had mentioned wanting to catch a rerun of _Supernatural_ , which started at 8:00. 

“Well,” Derek said, noticing that papa Stilinski was still not home, “we’re here.” 

“Yeah man.  Thanks. I had a good time. I truly am sorry for what happened earlier today.” 

Derek turned to Stiles, leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips.  “See, I am no monster.” 

Stiles smiled, quickly grabbed Derek’s right hand, placing it once again where it had rested earlier in the day.  “Derek, but I think I am.  Let’s test that theory on a second date.”  

Just as quickly as Stiles had grabbed Derek’s hand, he had opened the passenger door and was bolting toward the front porch.

A frustrated Derek yelled, “when?”

Stiles turned around, but continued to walk backwards toward the porch.  “Tomorrow dude, tomorrow, this time tomorrow.  You drive, I bring the music.”


End file.
